The car rumbled absentmindedly to itself as its teen aged driver guided it down the road. It was Saturday night and the road was the locally accepted weekend make out area. The branches of the trees on either side of the road arched the road to intertwine tightly with each other like children playing London Bridge or Red Rover. The branches clasped each other so tightly that headlights were necessary whenever one drove the stretch. The young man driving chatted amiably with his companion and the car wondered if the boy was himself tonight or impersonating his older brother who sometimes “double booked” an evening with two young ladies, at which point the younger brother would take advantage iof the considerable shared resemblance between them and spend the evening with the second young lady, his older brother having left with the first some time ago. The car had seen this happen several times. Suddenly the car stopped, unable to move. The car heard both passengers gasp in response to the abrupt stop.The car tried gamely to respond when the boy tried to restart the engine, but to no avail. The girl quipped that he didn’t have to pretend to be out of gas. And then from second to the next the temperature plummeted and the car felt their breath fog the windows. There was a woman approaching them now, appearing from the shadows as thoughtlessly as a human might walk through a doorway. She wo a cloak with the hood pulled up. Beside her paced two huge dogs easily the size of Irish Wolfhounds, with luge spikes protruding from the necks, tje boy redoubled his efforts to start the car, apparently they were close enough for him to see that the collars weren’t collars either. The car strained bravely against the invisible barrier and then suddenly it was gone. The car was able to make its engine turn over, its headlights blazed to life and they peeled away, leaving the sinister woman and her dogs behind in a cloud of exhaust, The car feverishly hoped that the young man’s next date was it was far from here. The incident had taken a few years off her factory warranty.
Author’s Note: The young man in this story is my dad and he swears he didn’t make this up. The road is named Witch Duck Road because at the end of road is a lake where several women were tried for witchcraft and drowned The trees that were so old then were so old when was a teenager were probably little more than saplings at the time of the time of the deaths. The trees were cut down the year after dad’s story and the apparition hasn’t showed up since. I personally think that she was a physical manifestation of the suffering of those dead women that was somehow linked to the trees. On a humorous note, my uncle David really did forget and double book his dates and dad did pretend to be David and take them out.